Fifty Touches of Grey
by fiftyshadesfreak
Summary: Ana helps Christian get over his fear of being touched...Set right after Fifty Shades Darker. Lots of Fluff!
1. Letting Go

"Do you know every line of this movie?" Christian asks right against my ear.

I turn my head to peer at him from behind me and smirk. "Maybe."

I've been lounging on the big sofa of the huge media room watching one of my favorite movies ever – _Pride and Prejudice. _One of the only book to movie adaptations that has ever been done right. Christian's been working in his studying until a few minutes ago when he joined me, and found me reciting almost every line. It's almost at the end, the scene where Elizabeth finally admits her feeling for Mr. Darcy right before asking her father's permission to marry him.

Instead of turning back to the screen, I turn in Christian's arms so that I'm facing him and now away from the TV.

He looks down at me rather amusedly, his beautiful face cast in shadow with only the flickering light from the TV to illuminate anything in the room. I gaze back with a smile and begin to follow along with Matthew MacFadyen as he says his lines as Mr. Darcy.

"You must know – surely you must know – it was all for you." I pause, letting dear old Matthew say the next lines without me. Instead, I admire the view of Christian's eyes, reaching up to brush my fingers over his cheek and letting my palm stay there as I pick the words back up.

"My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever." I murmur, pausing at the same time the actor does, and using it to snuggle closer to Christian, bringing my lips just a breath from his as I go on.

"If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you – you have bewitched me body and soul, and I love – I love – I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on."

I whisper the words, never breaking eye contact. Christian's face loses the amusement, replaced with that wide eyed, shy look which I'm still getting used to. He smiles softly when I stay silent, letting the movie roll on without a second thought.

"Sounds like you should have been an actress," he notes lightly with his lips curving up on one side.

I bring my arms around him as I say, "S'not acting. That part was just as true for me as it was for Mr. Darcy."

His eyes widen just a fraction and I see him swallow convulsively, as if something about my words still astounds him.

"Ana," he whispers, his breath hitting my face. The two short syllables of my name hold so much more than what words could probably ever express - all the reverence, love, and happiness which I can feel radiating from him.

It stuns me that this man could have ever thought that he didn't have a heart. I've never met anyone with a bigger heart than Christian. He's capable of such endless love that would crack many other men's hearts from the sheer amount. I feel as if my own heart will burst any moment from just trying to receive and contain it all. But getting him to see it is still a challenge.

I duck my head underneath his chin, nuzzling into his neck as the movie finishes playing out the last few minutes. Just as the last lines are being spoken, I release an enormous yawn.

"I think that means bedtime," Christian murmurs.

"Hmm."

Christian chuckles lightly at my wordless reply as we both lumber into a sitting position just in time to see the credits start rolling. Christian grabs the remote and turns everything off, leaving us in darkness, just with the small crack of light coming from the other side of the media room's cracked door to guide us out.

"Come," Christian says, grabbing my hand and leading me out, without the least bit of trouble in the dark.

I follow behind him down the hall and into our bedroom. He switches on one of the bedside lamps and we both start getting ready for bed. I changed out of my work clothes earlier so the only thing I have to do before climbing into bed is slip off the silk robe which matches the short black night gown – one that has become one of my favorites along with the pink one. I have a sneaking suspicion that Christian is rather fond of it too.

The thought makes me smile as I slip easily into bed, settling in and watching Christian finish changing.

I stare with unashamed lust as he pulls on his thin sleep pants.

"Ahhh, Miss Steele," Christian says with overt fondness in his tone, breaking me out of my trance. "What you can do to me with just one look."

My eyes meet his wickedly amused ones, and I watch as he gestures to his lips with his index finger, making me realize that I'm biting mine rather hard. Instinctively, I remove my teeth, a small blush rising to my cheeks – I don't even know why. If I want to stare at my fiancée, I think I have a right.

The word bounces around in my head, inciting a happy disbelief. It's only been a week, and the idea is still sinking in more or less. Getting accustomed to the idea that this man wants to marry me is not exactly easy.

I let out a sigh as Christian turns and opens another drawer where his t-shirts are. He pulls one out and uses his knee to shut the drawer back as he sticks his arms through. Before he pulls it over his head, he turns on his heel, bringing him back to face me.

Just then, he stops and stares at the shirt for a moment. Then, he glances up at me, then back down at the shirt. I'm just about to ask him what he's thinking about, when he puts his arms down, letting the shirt fall. He catches it in one hand and tosses it back on the dresser, and strides over to the bed. Still shirtless.

I stay silent as he sits on the edge of the mattress and brings his long legs up and sticks them under the covers.

Just then, it hits me – Christian never sleeps shirtless. Ever.

Although not an astounding sight, I know what momentous progress it signifies.

Instead of putting him on the spot about it, I decide not to point out anything unusual, staying silent as we settle in.

I'm rolling over away from him as I usually do so he can pull me against him, when he stops me.

"No," he says, rolling me back the other way so that I'm facing him. He reaches over to kill the light, leaving us in the bright moonlight which fills the room through the mostly glass wall.

"Come here," he says, pulling me closer. He lies on his back and settles me into his side before he reaches for my hand, which he takes in his and places firmly over his heart. I stay stock still, letting him lead – do what he's comfortable with.

Over the last week, Christian has made more progress than I could have ever imagined. Enough, that now, I allow myself an unexpected touch here and there, just little brushes – but only when he's wearing a shirt.

When it's just his bare skin, I always make sure it's okay with him. And even then, it's just a few kisses or caresses before it's too much – for both of us. Although I've been dying to touch him, and I love knowing I have the privilege, seeing the stress and still downright fear it incites from him causes its own wounds to me.

I want nothing more than to erase the memories which cause these reactions, but I know only time and love will change them.

We lie in silence for a few minutes. Long enough that I think this is all he wants right now, when he speaks again, moving my hand further along his chest.

"Ana," he whispers into my hair. "Touch me."

The words still cause a shiver to run up my spine. Not moving anything but my hand, I use just my fingertips to very lightly stroke the top of his chest. From pec to pec and through the springy chest hair which I love so much. I use the most feather-light pressure I can, waiting for him to stop me any time.

My head is still resting in the crook of his shoulder and I don't move to look at his face, but I suspect his eyes are scrunched shut. I can feel the slight stiffness of his body, and I expect him to say he's had enough any second now.

But when he does say something, it's not to stop me. "No, Ana. _Really _touch me."

The unexpected words make me look up at him this time. I'm a little taken aback when I take in his expression. His eyes are wide, sincere, and his face looks calm, undisturbed at my trailing fingers.

I stare up at him for a long moment, gauging his intent and comfort level.

_Alright, Fifty. Your wish – my command._

I give the smallest of nods, but say nothing as I pull away from him slightly just to push myself up. Settling onto my knees, I move with careful slowness as I move one leg to the other side of him. I watch him carefully, looking for any sign of fear or apprehension. But I see none.

I tuck my legs neatly underneath me on either side of his torso, sitting on his lower abdomen.

With one last look in his eyes, I take my gaze from his and start moving slowly. He's rarely given me so much liberty – usually I have to request it in small doses – and I want to take full advantage of it.

I decide to take it slow – start with the safe zones which he's okay with being touched. I begin with his arms, resting both hands on either of his wrists and taking my time as I trail them up, all the way to his biceps and shoulders where I stop and remove my hands.

Then, I put both palms flat on the mattress on either side of his head and use them to lean down, bringing my face to his.

Flipping my hair to one side, I start with his forehead, planting very soft, chaste kisses over his face before bringing my lips to his. He returns the kiss with intense fervor, the only indication of his heightened emotions.

I break the kiss and start with his jaw, nipping very softly before moving down onto his neck. I continue to take my time as I kiss down his jugular, planting one on his Adam's apple and coming to the soft dip at the base of his neck where his collar bones meet – also the last bit of skin before I reach his chest.

I move down, settling right over his chest, pausing long enough to sneak a peek up at Christian. I again see no trace of fear yet, just a little tense stress which I more feel than see. Instead, the look I see in his eyes is enough to make my heart stop – in a good way. The utter trust that is visible within them is so strong that it's almost tangible.

Feeling reassured, I turn my attention back to his bare skin. I let my lips hover over the top of his sternum for just a moment before touching them to his skin. Immediately, I feel his muscles stiffen in response, but he makes no sound.

I lift my lips and slowly continue with the same pace as I move across his chest, going straight for his scars as always and wishing my kisses could make them utterly disappear.

By the time I've kissed all of them, his breathing has escalated and his hands are gripping my thighs with acute tension. I can practically feel the stress oozing out of him. I dare to sneak a peek upward, to see him squeezing his eyes shut, and his brows coming together.

The look puts a crack in my heart, and I halt my work on his chest, moving back up so my face is over his.

"Hey," I say as softly as I can manage, but my voice still sounds too loud in the complete silence which we've been in. This makes his eyes fly open as if he was unaware that I had moved at all.

"Are you okay?" I ask, despite knowing the answer. He's not okay. He can't be with all the horrid memories that I know are going through his mind. Memories of being a poor defenseless little boy suffering a horrendous amount of physical and emotional hurt – the memories of being used as a human ash try. The thought makes me shudder as a suddenly queasy feeling strikes me.

"Yes," he breathes heavily. "I'm fine. Go ahead." Despite his words, I stare down at him with a dubious look. I want nothing more than to help Christian – for both of us. I know there's only one way he'll ever move past this fear.

It's a lot more than just facing the fear – it's about letting go of the things which brought it on in the first place. Until then, he'll always carry it with him.

"Christian," I say, reaching to stroke the side of his face.

"I'm fine, Ana," he responds, trying to reassure me. "Keep going."

I don't move my face as I use my other hand to touch his chest, stroking my full palm very lightly and slowly all the way down while still holding his eyes – until they close tight again.

"Christian," I whisper again, still stroking his chest softly. He opens his eyes once more to look at me.

"It's okay," I reassure him, brushing from left to right. "You're safe with me."

"I know. I know," he mumbles quickly. "It's just the memories…" _Bingo. That's how I need to help him._

"I know, baby," I say softly, kissing the side of his face and letting my hand come to a stop on his chest. "I know."

Again, I start the process over, kissing down his neck. This time though, I move over toward his ear, kissing the soft spot right beneath before whispering, "Let them go."

I move down one kiss and say, "Be here – with me." I move my hand over his chest as if to emphasize my words.

He sucks in a deep breath, blowing it out heavily, and I swear I feel him loosen up just a tad. I smile against his skin, pleased that it seems to be the right way to help him.

I move my lips on to his chest again. After three slow kisses, I speak again. "It's just us, Christian," I breathe against his skin followed by more kiss.

I move to the right side of his chest, and bring my hand up to his left side, brushing my fingers across.

He stiffens again and his hands tighten on my legs when I let my teeth graze his nipple as I continue south. "You know I'd never hurt you."

Again, he huffs out a breath, and this time, his muscles relax noticeably underneath me.

"Ana," he whispers in a rush.

Feeling braver, I kiss right in the middle if his chest, then let the tip of my tongue trail down through his chest hair, relishing the feeling.

I hear Christian release a little moan – but not one of distress. This sound I recognize very well – arousal. Underneath me, I feel his back arch ever so slightly.

It has an immediate affect to me, making my heart pound and my blood flame.

"Don't think about anything except this moment," I tell him, feeling his chest lose more tension.

I pause to look at him through my lashes. His eyes aren't closed tight anymore. Instead, he's gazing down at me with wonder, no trace of strain on his face at all.

I smile up at him triumphantly. "See?" I ask. "Better isn't it?"

He nods slowly, letting his eyes slide close with ease, and I feel his body relax all the way. I continue on with my affectionate assault of his skin until I finally reach his navel. With one final kiss, I sit back up, making him open his eyes again. I smile down at him, stroking my fingers one last time over his chest.

Then, another idea occurs to me. I move my leg from around him so I'm no longer straddling him.

"Sit up," I whisper. He complies immediately, giving me that completely trusting look again.

I scoot on my knees to kneel behind him, and rest my hands lightly on his shoulders before trailing them down his back and winding them around his torso, coming to stop with my hands over his abdomen so I'm hugging him from behind.

I kiss one of the scars close to his shoulder blade and move my lips to his ear. "Just focus on us. On me."

He lets out a soft sigh and moves his hands to cover mine, leaning back into me.

I kiss the two other scars, along with a few more kisses in random places before I remove my lips, and instead, I just lay my cheek flat on his back as I keep holding him like this. "Don't let your mind go back there. Stay here," I murmur. "With me."

I stay like that for a few minutes before moving again. When I do, I slide my arms back around him and shift off of my knees, leaning back into the pillows and pulling Christian down with me.

I wrap my legs around him as he settles his back against me, resting his head on my chest. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss the top of his head just before he peers up at me, having to crane his neck a bit to do so.

I meet his gaze and smile, which he returns with his shy one that absolutely melts my heart.

He stares at me for a long moment with an indecipherable expression. Suddenly, he takes me by surprise by turning over in my embrace so that he's hovering over me with my legs and arms still wrapped around him.

He settles onto his knees and looms over me with his hands on either side of my head. Lowering his face right to mine, he brushes his lips over mine.

"You okay?" I ask, making sure I didn't push him too far.

He pulls back suddenly at my question, followed by a sweeping movement of him sitting up and pulling me with him until we're both face to face, putting me in his lap.

"More than okay," he breathes against my face. He pauses, letting more silence pass. Then, "I was right."

I arch an eyebrow at the left field statement. "About what?"

"You really are the best therapy," he responds, giving me a swift kiss.

I smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He leans into the touch as I say, "It's not therapy – just love."

This time, I'm the one who pauses before going on. "The problem is you associate touch with pain and hurt. You just have to learn to let that go, and associate it with something else. With love." I run my hand down his chest once again for just a second. "With me."

He heaves a huge breath, sounding half like a sigh and half like a soft laugh, and stares at me with unfathomable expression.

"I know I need to forget. I'm trying," he says, giving me a rueful smile.

"You're succeeding," I correct. "It's going to take time, Christian. It took twenty-seven years to get you here, and it won't disappear overnight. But we'll get there. And you'll have me to help you. I promise."

Christian lifts his hands and puts them on either side of my face. "Ana," he says, giving me a heart-breakingly vulnerable look. "God, Ana. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

I roll my eyes despite myself. "Think you have that backwards."

He gives me a small shake of his head and a smile, bringing his lips right up to mine. "You've given me everything, Ana. You've brought me to life. Given me something to live for. And now, you're healing wounds I never thought I'd be rid of."

"Like I said," I smile. "It's love. I'm not necessarily the one doing these things, Christian. Most of them happened simply because of the fact that you've allowed yourself to show love for a change. Now, you're not bottling everything inside and hiding behind angry arrogance."

"Well whatever it is," he says. "I hope it never stops."

I smile and give him a quick peck. "Me either."

He slowly lowers us back onto the bed, still hovering over me.

"Now," he begins ominously. "I'd like to spend time making love to my dear fiancée, if you don't mind. I want to be the one touching you for a while."

I grin at him. "No objections here. All yours, baby."

He smirks wickedly at me before ducking his head to kiss my neck.

Leaning my head back, I release a sigh and surrender myself to the expert, loving touch of Christian Grey.


	2. Musical Touch

**A/N: First of all, I never intended this story to have another chapter, but after all the reviews and requests that I continue, I decided to go ahead and write my opinion, it's not nearly as good as the first chapter but lemme know wut u think**

**Second of all, I want to send a HUGE thank you for all the super sweet reviews and PMs! They mean a lot! So this is for all of you! Hope u like it!**

"Ugh. That's enough," I mutter to myself, closing and pushing away the manuscript I started reading today. I've read as much as I can stand. The author is going absolutely nowhere with the story, not to mention its lack of coherence.

I sigh, glancing up at the clock while I take a sip of wine. Doing the mental math, I determine when I have to take the pan of enchiladas out of the oven. I still have almost a half hour, so I grab the discarded manuscript and slide off the bar stool and head for the library.

Padding barefoot across the room, I put the book in with the rest of the 'no' pile and grab the other one I had brought home with me from work. I'm about to get up to head back out when I find myself staring at the green-upholstered billiards table.

Tucking the manuscript under my arm, I saunter over to it on my way toward the door. I smile to myself as I run the tips of my fingers over the wood side, remembering the fun times associated with it. In fact, there's few places left in the apartment that don't have such memories.

Sighing, I leave the table and sexy memories to head back through the door and toward the kitchen. However, when I round the corner, I hear something unexpected. The piano.

Sure enough, I come to the breakfast bar where I set the second manuscript and see Christian, sitting at the bench and bending over the keys. I hadn't even realized he had come out of his study where he's spent that last twenty minutes making a few phone calls.

His eyes are closed as his fingers glide over the ivories, producing a sweet, soft melody – unlike the usual sad-sounding pieces I'm used to him playing.

Because his eyes are closed, I'm able to scamper in my bare feet over to him without him realizing it.

I move around the sleek baby grand to stand behind him, pausing to watch his shifting fingers with a little awe as they cascade over the keys to produce the lovely sound.

Leaning over slightly, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, bringing my face down until our cheeks are touching. Christian gives no sign of surprise at my presence, so maybe he already knew I was here. Instead, he continues to play for a little longer, with a small smile as the only acknowledgement of my being here.

He brings the tune to a close with a few more small moves of his hands before he makes a move. When he does, he turns his face toward me, opening his eyes and giving me a gorgeous smile.

"Hi," he murmurs, kissing me on the cheek.

"Hi," I mimic, tightening my arms around him. "This is a treat."

His brows crease momentarily. "What do you mean?"

I pull back a couple inches as I say, "The only time I've ever heard you play is in the middle of the night when you're upset about something."

His expression says that's something he's never thought of before. "Huh," he says with a tiny shrug.

I straighten up, just resting my hands on his shoulders and say, "By all means, keep going."

He smiles back at me for just a moment before turning back to the keys and picking up another song.

I stay like that – silent and completely captured by my man's talented fingers drifting across the piano with just as much expertise as he uses on me.

I reach up to run my finger through his silky copper hair, making him lean his head back into me. I smile and do it a couple of more times, playing with his hair and letting it glide between my fingers.

Listening to the much happier music than I'm used to hearing him play, I see the skin of his neck and some of the skin of his shoulder peeking past the collar of his shirt. I stroke soft area with just my fingertips. Christian seems impervious to the touch, and I can't resist, so I lean down and give him a kiss as well, starting with the sensitive area just behind his ear.

Again, he doesn't seem to register the action, so I keep going, trailing my lips down about an inch to the very edge of his jaw, leaving another kiss. Just like that, I very leisurely continue south until I reach the very top of his shoulder where his shirt starts. All the while, Christian's fingers never halt or even hesitate over the keys.

An idea suddenly occurs to me.

A slow smile curves my lips, and I slowly move my hands from their spot on his shoulders around him until I come to where the first fastened button is on his shirt. I don't move from my vantage point behind him as I unhurriedly undo the first one before dropping lower to the second one. I just go by feel instead of leaning over him to see what I'm doing. When I get the very last button undone and pull his shirt open, Christian suddenly stops playing though it sounds as if he's in the middle of the song.

I can feel him about to turn around when I whisper, "Don't stop," in his ear.

He hesitates only for a second, and from my place by his neck, I can see him swallow harder than normal, making his Adam's apple bob. But whether the action is out of nervousness or something else, I'm not sure.

Since the little experimental exercise the other night, I've backed off of the touching thing for a couple of days, letting him take a breather. Neither of us have mentioned anything about it, and I was secretly hoping he would be the first to break the ice, but apparently not.

But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe he's been waiting for me to make the first move, instead of him asking for it as he always has been before.

Just then, it dawns on me – that's exactly what needs to happen. But whether or not he's been intentionally planning for that, I don't know. It doesn't matter.

_Alright, _I decide. _We've been through _how _to get over this fear. It's time to actually put it to the test._

The difference between the other night and now – I'm the instigator, not him. This is a first, and enough to make my own butterflies flutter around in my stomach. It really is a strange feeling – this is the first time I've taken this much control with him, at least with something as serious as touching.

I suck in a breath before I make a move, just as he starts playing again, slower than before but just as beautifully.

I keep my face low to his shoulder and raise my knee so that it's resting on the bench beside his right hip. Then, oh so slowly, I move my hands from around him and back to his shoulders where I very lightly grasp the collar of shirt and start working it over his arms.

Because of his busy fingers, I can only get it to his elbows, but that's alright – it's more than enough.

From where I'm positioned, I start with his back. I've sort of gathered from trail and error that out of the two, his back seems to be a slightly less sensitive area than his chest. Just a theory though.

I keep my hands curved around each bicep, feeling the very slight shifting of muscle beneath my fingers from the movement of his hands over the keys.

I skim over his right shoulder, with only my nose touching him, inhaling as I go and relishing his trademark fragrance – still fresh because of the shower he took not so long ago after a workout with Claude.

Because of the placement of my hands, it's very obvious when he stiffens, though his playing doesn't stop. Glancing up at the side of his face, I see his jaw is a little tense, probably from clenching his teeth and his eyes are trained with more intensity than necessary on his the piano in front of him.

I move my lips back up, closer to his ear. Giving a small kiss underneath his jaw again, I say just loud enough so he can hear me, "It's okay." I give one more kiss. "Remember – just me."

I pull back a couple of inches but keep peering up at his face. I feel and see him take a deep breath and blow it back out heavily, making his body loose tension. I also watch as he lets his eyes slide close and his jaw looses its rigidity.

Successful so far, I continue, moving back from his neck and getting closer to his upper back.

I bend so that I'm face to face with one of the scars, pausing only long enough so that my breath hits his skin so that he knows where to expect me to touch.

I brush my lips as lightly as possible over the skin first before I bring my lips down. I repeat the process twice with the other scars. As I plant a random kiss over his shoulder blade, I move my hands up until they reach his shoulders where I bring them down over his back, caressing as I go. The whole time, I feel for any more tension from Christian but get none.

Once his back is sufficiently loved, I start my way back up. Coming to his shoulder again, I move my hands around him like I did a couple of nights ago, gliding my fingers over his stomach – a safe zone.

Again, I feel him tense just a teenie bit, just a slight contraction of muscle under my fingers, but his eyes stay closed and I don't say anything as I starting kissing down one of his arms. The actions makes me lean onto the knee which is still propped up on the bench and brings me to Christian's side so that I'm curved around him.

The position gives me an idea as to what my next move should be. He moves the arm which I was just kissing further down the keyboard so he can reach another key, giving me more room. Moving quickly and as fluidly as I can manage, I scrunch down to make myself as small as possible and duck beneath his elbow, bring me in between his arms and around to his front.

Surprisingly, it doesn't hamper his playing or make him miss so much as a note, not to my ears at least.

However, the move is obviously unexpected because his eyes pop open, meeting mine with surprise. I give him a crafty smile and a slightly devious look to lighten things up, and move my arms around his neck. His lips curve up on one side in response just as his eyes close again. I'm balanced on both of my knees. Luckily, I decided to wear a pair of slacks to work today, making it easy for me to move one to the other side of him until I'm straddling his lap.

Through it all, he doesn't stop playing, a fact which both surprises and impresses me.

I start with his face, kissing his cheek before moving further down onto his jaw then his neck. Reaching the base where his collar bone is, I feel him tense again, going completely rigid this time. Even his arms stiffen on either side of me though it doesn't affect his playing. Since both of my arms are still around his neck, I entangle my fingers into his hair and move my face back up until I'm at his ear again.

"Calm down, Christian," I tell him quietly. "You're okay." When I pull back from his ear, he opens his eyes, gazing at me as he takes another deep breath and loosening as he blows it back out. I give him an encouraging look and a small nod to reassure him.

His eyes relax and he inclines his head until his face is nestled in the crook of my neck. I feel him kiss the skin there and sigh as his fingers slow over the keys, the song coming to a lull.

I rest my cheek on the top of his head, keeping one hand cradled at the base of his neck while I use the other to stroke his back once more before bringing it to his shoulder. I put just enough distance between us so that my hand can glide downward. I just use the back of my knuckles to brush over his skin, feeling him suck in a breath against my neck.

I come back up and run my fingers through his hair at the same time as I stroke my the very tips of my fingers straight down his sternum. Removing my hand from around his neck, I place both hands over each side of chest, one over his heart and the other directly across from it.

He doesn't move his face from my neck so I feel it when his breathing escalates.

"It's just me loving you," I whisper, moving both hands down as if to emphasize my words.

I kiss his shoulder, still letting my fingers wander slowly when I feel his jaw go slack and his breath come even harder.

I'm about to remove my hands and say something to pull him out of the memories I assume he's reliving when I suddenly feel him harden beneath me.

I smile. He's not afraid – he's turned on!

he revelation makes triumph flare through me. This is a first. A damn good first. One that signifies amazing progress on his part.

Christian's never gotten excited because I was touching him. In fact, it's always caused the opposite effect.

Feeling much braver and bolder, I halt the movement of my fingers to grasp his sides. Instead, I maneuver myself so I drop lower, bringing my lips level with the first part of his chest.

The movement makes Christian pull his face away from my neck. I glance up at him to see his gray eyes scintillating with a familiar look. I give him a slow smile before ducking down to his chest again.

Taking my time, I plant soft, wet kisses starting with his scars. When I place one right over his heart, I move down to take a tiny nibble at his skin. In response, the piano makes an obvious sound of discord – a key which doesn't match the rest of the slow, tinkling ones he's been playing.

The fact that I just made him finally miss a key highly amuses me for some reason and I find myself giggling against his skin.

Crouching as low as I can go, I place my mouth at the base of his sternum and trail the very tip of my tongue all the way back up very slowly. This time, Christian gives a groan and completely abandons the keys, wrapping his arms around me instead.

The embrace restricts my kissing, so I raise back up until we're eyelevel again, wrapping my arms securely around his neck.

Christian immediately attacks my lips with tangible fervor. But just as I start to kiss back, the timer in the kitchen starts going off painfully loud. I pull back with a groan of exasperation. The look on Christian's face does nothing to help either.

"I have to take the enchiladas out," I murmur.

"Just them burn," he growls.

"Trust me – burnt enchiladas does not taste good," I say back, sadly disentangling myself and standing back up. I have to dash for the kitchen, grabbing up an oven mitt and setting the scalding pan on the stove to cool.

While I'm turning everything off, I feel a pair of arms come around me.

But before I can say anything, Christian whispers, "Thank you, Ana."

I know what he's talking about, but I decide to go for a little humor. "Ehh. Enchiladas aren't hard to make."

He grasps my shoulders and spins me around to face him, gazing at me with utmost sincerity.

"You know what I mean," he says.

My face softens. "Yeah I do."

"Thank _you _for trusting me," I counter as he pulls me against him.

"I do," he says. "With everything."

I don't respond. Instead, I just keep hugging him to me as he does the same.

When we finally pull apart, Christian doesn't take his usual seat at the breakfast bar but chooses to stay close to me as I finish getting our dinner ready. Once we've both sat down, I think about something else.

"What were you playing? It was beautiful," I say after a bite.

"You really wanna know?" he asks, humor suddenly saturating his voice for some reason.

"Yeah…"

"It's called 'Touch'," he answers with a smile.

"Seriously?" I ask, understanding the irony.

He nods, and after another minutes says, "You were right."

I look over at him. "I usually am, but what about?"

"As long as I stay in the present – with you – I'm fine. It's still a little bit of a struggle, but it's nowhere near as hard anymore."

I lean over so I can give him a kiss on the cheek. "And it's only going to get easier."

**A/N: Hope u enjoyed! Reviews appreciated! If u want more, follow me cuz I plan on writing more short ones like this soon! **

**Until next time,**

**Laters! ;)**


	3. Setback

**A/N: Omg! You guys are amazing! Again, you have convinced me to go on with the story just as I thought I was finished…I decided to kinda change gears with this LAST chapter…hope u like it!**

"Oh my. It's beautiful," comments Grace's mother as she holds my hand close to her face, examining my engagement ring. She glances back up at me but keeps holding my hand. "He couldn't have picked anyone better, my dear.

I blush pink, blossoming under her praise and approval. A feeling of gratitude runs through me – to be not only accepted by my in-laws, but loved as one of their own. Being an only child, the feeling is even more special.

"Thank you," I respond, returning her smile.

Just then, Grace swoops in. "Please don't tell me you're scaring the poor girl away, Mother. We can't afford to lose her," she says playfully.

"Oh, you sound like your father, Gracie – always assuming I don't know how to control my mouth."

I grin, watching and listening to the two women bantering back and forth. I take a sip of the champagne in my glass, glancing around the elegant surroundings.

Grace and Carrick have pulled out all the stops once again, this time for their Fourth of July dinner party. The same white marquee is set up, though not as large-scale as the Coping Together charity.

As always, my eyes are soon drawn across the room to where Christian stands, talking with Carrick, and two other couples I vaguely remember being introduced to, but can't remember the names of for the life of me.

As if he can feel my gaze, Christian's eyes suddenly stray away from the man talking to meet mine.

A slow smile forms on my face, and Christian gives me a look which can set any woman's heart to racing.

However, the moment is interrupted when a familiar voice breaks into my trance.

"Mr. and Mrs. G really know how to throw a party," Kate comments, coming from behind and forcing me to look at her instead.

"Oh, I know."

With that, Kate launches into general small talk, including a lot of things about the wedding. But I'm only paying half of my attention to her. The other half is occupied with thoughts of Christian.

Somehow, we let ourselves get whisked into different directions shortly after arriving and the distance is starting to wear on me.

In fact, I find myself inching in that direction, causing Kate to saunter along with me, making small talk as we wander toward where Christian stands, still surrounded by various people.

Finally, we reach the table across from where he stands, but are stopped, this time by Mia who immediately launches into a detailed explanation of her lunch with Ethan yesterday. Not really interested in hearing of her brother's romantic life, Kate excuses herself and heads off for Elliot several tables away where Carrick has moved to.

Out of nowhere, I hear a commotion behind me – in the direction Christian was standing before I was stopped by Mia.

Looking at Mia, I immediately see her stop talking, not finishing whatever she was saying, and her eyes widen. A tad alarmed by her expression, I spin around.

And I'm sure my face is much worse than hers in response at the sight before me.

It takes me about a second and a half to deduce what's happened. One of the women standing around in the loose arrangement of people spilled her wine – straight onto Christian.

But the little accidental spill isn't what makes me stop short and stop breathing – it's her reaction to her mistake.

The flustered woman has instinctively grabbed up a linen napkin from the table and is apologizing profusely as she tries to dab at the wine stain – right on Christian's chest.

_Oh no!_

Sure enough, as soon as I take in the scene in front of me, my eyes snap up to Christian. And the look on his face shatters me – makes my heart stutter painfully and my knees weaken.

His eyes aren't scrunched tight as I've seen before. Instead, they're wide with shock and pain. I can practically see the flashbacks from his childhood replaying in them. Panic is etched into every line of his face, and his lips are parted, his jaw slack, looking like he's about to release a cry of pain.

My hesitation lasts only for a split second, before I'm on the move. I don't even notice when the glass of champagne slips through my numb fingers to the floor, probably shattering with the impact – but I'm already moving away from it.

I stride with determined purpose, coming to my man's rescue.

In no time at all, I slide between the gathering crowd of curious onlookers, reaching Christian who seems impervious to my or anybody else's presence – he's too lost in the horrid memories which have him trapped.

"It's okay – I'll take care of it," I tell the fluttering woman, stepping between her and Christian. Without waiting for her to respond, I grab the underside of Christian's bicep with a firm grasp and pull him out of the crowd.

Surprisingly, he follows me, though his step falters somewhat.

Moving as quickly as I can, I lead Christian toward the marquee opening, leaving the inhabitants behind and mostly unaware of the situation.

When we hit the walkway leading back up to the house, out of the sight of the tent, I slow down, removing my hand from his bicep to wrap my arm around his waist, letting his arm drape around my shoulder.

In response, he leans some of his weight onto me as I hold him tight and continue to lead him forward.

In the silence of the night, I hear him give a strained gasp, resembling a sob.

I squeeze him tighter just as we reach the house. "Shh, Christian. It's okay, baby."

Sliding the back glass door open, I guide Christian inside and head through the house to the huge powder room down the hall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gretchen – the housekeeper who constantly has her eyes glued to Christian, even with me right beside him most of the time. I don't stop to register her reaction to the sight. Instead, I reach my destination, pushing the door wider.

Pulling him through the entrance and flipping on the light, I lead Christian over to the vanity chair, grasping his waist and lowering him into the seat.

He leans back heavily against the back of the chair as I stand in front of him, taking both of his hands tightly in mine. I don't make a move to touch anywhere else right now, fearing that it'll just hurt him more.

"Christian," I say lightly. But he still doesn't look at me, keeping that faraway look in his eyes as he keeps his sight trained on the floor.

"Christian," I say louder and with more force while squeezing his hands. This time, it grabs his attention. He snaps his head up as if he's just now aware that I'm here with him.

His eyes still looked pained and his chest heaves with the quick breaths of panic he sucks in and blows back out.

"You're safe, Christian," I say with sincere conviction, trying to make that sink in. "It's alright."

He stares at me for several long moments, and I watch as his breathing slows somewhat.

I bring one of his hands up and place a kiss on the back of it. "Everything's fine." I repeat the action with the opposite hand. "Stay in the here and now. Just concentrate on me."

His calms a little more, but still looks slightly terrified. "Help me," he gasps. "Make me forget."

Tears prick at my eyes and threaten to spill over at the helplessness with which he looks at me – pleading for me to bring him back to the present. Seeing such a powerful and dominant man as Christian become suddenly so weak and vulnerable is beyond unnerving, not to mention heartbreaking when it's someone I love so much.

Moving with deliberate slowness and caution, I hold his eyes as I move closer to him. Releasing his hands, I reach up for his face, again moving with gradual ease so that he knows exactly what I'm doing.

I take his face in between my hands, cradling. Bringing my face to his, I chance a kiss on his forehead, dropping lower to look him straight in the eyes. "Calm down, baby. It's just us."

I see and hear him take a deep, steadying breath before blowing it back out as his hands come to a rest on my hips. Kissing both cheeks, I let my lips hover over his for a second. "Just me, Christian." I touch my lips to his, just a light caress before I deepen it, making his lips part with mine.

When I pull back, I see his eyes have slid shut and when they open again, all I see is clear grey – still rawly vulnerable, but missing the outright terror.

I smile encouragingly at him. "Better?" I whisper.

He nods silently. "Keep going," he beseeches, tugging at my heart yet again.

Glancing down at his chest, I see the seeping red stain splattered all over his white shirt, making it cling to the skin underneath. So, obliging his heartfelt entreaty, I let my hands drop from his face for now and move to stand behind him.

"Lean up." I murmur. When he does, I grasp the sides of his suit jacket and very carefully slide it down over his shoulders. Christian helps me out and slides his arms out of the sleeves.

Stepping back in front of him, I lay the jacket on the counter and turn my attention back to his clothes.

Again, moving with intentionally slow movement, I reach for the top of his tie, grasping the knot gently.

He sits completely still, not moving a muscle as I loosen the tie before sliding it from around his neck, letting it join his coat on the counter.

Then, I start with his ruined shirt, reaching for the top button. Immediately, Christian goes rigid, tension rolling off of him as if dreading the possible contact.

I glance back up to see him anxiously watching me, fear and worry mingling in his eyes.

"It's okay – I'm not gunna touch you right now," I tell him honestly. I need to get him focused only on what's happening right now before I move to touch him there.

Very carefully, I undo his shirt, holding the material away from his skin until it's wide open and the tail is pulled out of his waistband.

Undoing his cuffs, I pull the shirt off of him with his assistance, leaving him completely bare-chested. The whole time he watches me cautiously, intently following my every move.

Stepping away from Christian, I grab one of the fluffy white wash cloths on the rack and turn toward the sink. Turning on the hot water, I wet the rag until it's nice and warm.

Turning the sink off, I ring the excess water out and return to stand right in front of Christian.

I drape the rag over my whole hand and hold it up to his chest, gazing at him with the silent question hanging the air. He gives the tiniest of nods, giving me the okay to touch him with the cloth.

Ever so gently, I stroke the rag over his skin, cleaning the sticky wine from his chest. I make sure the cloth is the only thing touching him as I move down, caressing as I go. Christian tenses slightly, but makes no other sign of distress.

When I'm sure all traces of wine are gone, I halt my cleaning and toss the cloth back onto the counter as well.

I step forward, bringing me face to face with Christian again. Reaching up, I cradle his face in both of my hands again. Kissing the tip of his nose, I pull back to smile down at him, trying to reassure him.

"You're safe. You're here with me, and. You're. Safe," I breathe just before bringing my lips back to his. Christian moans softly and wraps both arms around me, pulling me close and deepening the kiss.

Just as our tongues meet, I feel one of his hands drop lower until it's curved around my ass.

_There's my man. _I think, taking the action as a good sign.

Feeling emboldened, I remove one hand from his face and use it to pull up the skirt of my dress so I can bring my leg up and around him as I pull myself into his lap.

I wrap both arms around his neck and use one hand to grasp a handful of his silken hair.

Soon, there's no doubt that we're both lost in each other – no other thoughts outside of this moment. It's just us.

Seeing my opportunity, I take my free hand around his neck and gently drop it lower, brushing it over his bare back. He groans again, but makes no sign of distress or pain.

Slowing the kiss along with the movement of my hand, I glide it up onto his shoulder, pausing before taking it any lower. This time, I feel Christian shift and tense. I pull away just for moment to whisper, "Relax," before catching his mouth again as I drag my fingernails lightly over his scalp with the hand in his hair.

At the same time, I trail my hand lower, gliding down onto his chest. Christian gasps but I don't pull away, quieting his panic with my mouth.

"Shhh," I murmur, kissing him again. When he's relaxed a little more, I pull back, taking my hand out of his hair and placing right over his heart which is thumping faster than normal as I bring the other one to a halt on the other side of his chest.

"It's just me – you know I'm not going to hurt you," I say slowly, making sure he understands the gravity of what I'm saying.

"I know," he huffs, seeming to return to normal, all traces of panic completely gone.

"You've been doing extraordinary, Christian," I tell him. "Don't let this set you back."

He sighs, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "That damn bitch…"

"She didn't know," I interject. "It was an accident."

He sucks in a deep breath, inflating his cheeks as he blows it out noisily and nods his head in acknowledgement.

I watch him for several more moments, making sure he's okay. Finally, I remove my hands, letting them brush down to his stomach as I drop them before sliding off his lap altogether.

When I do, he leans up, bending with his elbows resting on his knees.

Letting him collect himself, I rifle through the clothes on the counter, searching, until my fingers find his phone in the pocket of his jacket.

I go straight to his contacts and hit Taylor's name, spinning back around to face him as I put the phone to my ear, letting it ring. Christian glances up, noticing me, and gives me a puzzled look, but I don't make any elaboration for him – not that I have any time to anyway for Taylor answers almost immediately.

"Sir?" he says quickly, and I can't help but notice he sounds…flustered, worried almost.

"It's Ana, Taylor," I clarify, still looking at Christian and watching as his eyebrows knit together, not understanding why on earth I'm calling Taylor, though it really should be obvious.

"Miss Steele," Taylor says quickly, his voice taking on an edge – well an edge when it comes to Taylor anyway. "Is everything alright? I lost track of you and Mr. Grey."

Understanding dawns on me – Taylor _is _worried. As far as I know, Taylor wasn't in the view of what happened earlier as he and Sawyer kept watch around the marquee, making sure no uninvited guests tried to show up or anything. Meaning, when I skipped the party with Christian in tow, they no longer knew where we were.

I feel a guilty twinge tug at me for a second – I'm sure they haven't been exactly happy not knowing where we were.

"Everything's fine," I reassure him. "Christian's with me. We're up in the main house – could you go ahead and get the Audi? I think we're ready to go home."

"Certainly, ma'am," he says, assuming his more stoic, impassive voice when he learns we haven't been abducted or anything.

"Thank you," I say, ending the call and handing Christian his phone back.

He takes it, looking surprised. "We don't have to go, Ana. I'm fine. I can go upstairs and grab one of my dad's shirts and we can stay – I know you were looking forward to the fireworks."

I give him a dubious look, but say, "Well, maybe you are, but I think I'd rather go home and make fireworks of our own."

I say this, not wanting him to feel like I'm underestimating him by not thinking he can handle returning to the party without having another meltdown or something.

And just to put the icing on the cake – I very deliberately bite down on my lower lip and give him my best _come hither _stare.

It works like a charm – Christian's eyes darken visibly, and a slow, sexy smile curves his lips.

"Sounds like a plan," he says, rising from the chair.

Christian grabs the ruined shirt, pulling it back on, but when he reaches for his jacket and tie, an idea suddenly strikes me like a bolt of lightning. In fact, I have the urge to look up to see if there are fireworks going off above my head.

"Leave it," I say suddenly. I can feel the inspiration lighting my face as Christian glances at me with a curious expression.

Without another word, I reach down, pulling up the skirt of my gown, and hook my fingers in the waistband of my panties. With one fluid move, I pull them down my legs, and gingerly step out of them.

When I stand up, Christian is looking at me with wide eyes.

I reach past him, though, without saying anything, and grab his tie – tossing them both on the floor.

"I say we let Gretchen take care of it," I say with a shrug, as if nothing unusual just happened. I reach for his suit jacket, throwing it casually over my shoulder as I step toward the door.

"And why – pray tell – did you feel the need to leave your panties?" Christian asks, highly amused as I turn around with my hand on the door knob.

I shrug, feeling the devious smirk form on my face even though I try to remain innocent looking for show. "Well, she saw us come in here. This way – she can make whatever assumptions she wants about what exactly we did."

Christian glances back down at my black thong on the floor. "You're definitely painting a rather vivid picture for her."

Again, I shrug, and Christian stalks a couple of steps forward to me, a wicked expression taking form on his face.

"Anastasia," he murmurs, coming to a stop in front of me. He puts his hands on either side of my head against the door. "You're adorable when you're jealous."

I smirk again. "I'm not jealous – I'm territorial."

"Hmmm," he hums sexily. "I kinda like it." He moves closer, lowering his face right to mine. "Well, since you already have your panties off, why don't we make it real? Give her some audio to go along with it?"

He skims his nose down mine, distracting me momentarily before I gather my wits again. I incline my face to his.

"Well, honestly, I was hoping for something a little more…" I trail off, making a dramatic show of thinking for the right word before settling on, "_kinky._"

This takes Christian aback for a second, complete surprise registering over his features before he regains his bearings, blinking.

"Really?" he asks darkly, a lavish smile playing on his lips. "You wanna play, Miss Steele?"

"With you, Mr. Grey? Always," I breathe, smiling innocently up at him.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" he growls, pushing away from the door so I can open it.

I release a little giggle as we exit.

We haven't been in the playroom since his birthday a few weeks ago, but suddenly, I know it's the perfect thing now. After the incident tonight, Christian needs something to make him feel in control again, even it's just as simple as tying me up for a while.

Right now, I know the best thing for him is physical touch – but not _from _me. He needs to be able to touch _me_ in whatever way he wants, to know that I trust him with my body just as much as he's been trusting me with his.

I won't push him anymore tonight – we can't move forward until he feels safe and secure again.

And I know this is the exact thing to do just that. I can't explain how I know. But sauntering back through the house as I take his hand in mine with a secret smile – I just know.

**A/N: It's official – THIS IS THE END! Lol! I never intended to write anymore than the first chapter and here I am with three because of all the very sweet requests that I continue… **

**I have plenty of other stories I'd like to try concerning our fav couple here! So if u liked this and want more, just follow me, cuz I plan on writing some more like this one!**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**Laters ;)**


End file.
